


“Housekeeping”

by emma_and_orlando



Series: Froger Week [2]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Comfort, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Roger makes him happy, Slutty outfit, Touring, lonely!freddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 16:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21323524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma_and_orlando/pseuds/emma_and_orlando
Summary: Touring is the most lonely time of Freddie’s life. He really just misses his Roger.
Relationships: Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Series: Froger Week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536466
Comments: 32
Kudos: 65
Collections: Froger!Week 2019





	“Housekeeping”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a reminder: 
> 
> my work in no way discredits Freddie as a homosexual, person of color, who passed away due to complications from aids. If you would like to participate in a debate about these critical subjects, do it somewhere else. 
> 
> Fanfiction does not have to be plausible. If you want something written a certain way, feel free to write your own fanfiction ❤️
> 
> Don’t like = Don’t read

"Housekeeping!"

Freddie rolls onto his stomach and hides his face in the white chemically cleaned hotel pillows. His clothes cling to his sweaty body and his limbs are too heavy to take them off.

He _probably_ shouldn't have yelled at his assistant Phoebe. 

If he hadn't pushed his friends and staff away, he would have been helped out of his clothes and a bath would have been prepared for him.

But Freddie'd had a shit performance. 

The lights weren't properly installed, the cues were off, the backdrop got mixed up and his catering had poisoned half his men. 

It had been a complete disaster. Freddie knew he would be the victim of bad reviews and lewd gossip by sunrise, in any given newspaper.

After the show, Freddie had gathered everyone of staff on stage. He stood on one of the amplifiers and yelled at his team (or the part of his team that wasn't bent over the toilet) for their incompetence and how they had let him down that day- until his face had gone red and voice had died in his throat.

He had never done that before and he hopes he never has to do it again. 

Afterward, an eerie silence had fallen over the backstage area. Freddie had brushed past them with his aching body and told everyone to leave him alone.

Even his personal assistant, Phoebe, who had failed to wash Freddie's favored outfit for the show.

_I expected more of you._ And then a final, _Don't bother me for the remainder of the night. I can't see your faces now._

That'll teach them. 

Or so Freddie had thought, before realizing he heavily depends on their hard around-the-clock-work to make his touring life bearable and less lonely. 

Now, alone in his bedroom with his spandex suit still on and his makeup smudging the sheets- he feels more like he's punishing himself than punishing his staff for giving them the night off. 

His mum was right. He should have started a band instead of becoming a famous solo act. 

...

There's another loud knock on the bedroom door. Followed by the same high pitched female voice. 

"Housekeeping for Mr Mercury!" 

Freddie is _this_ close to telling the woman to fuck off, but he guesses Phoebe had send him a past-midnight snack as an apology and the woman is only doing her job.

"Mr Mercury?"

"Not now." He calls back miserably.

He doesn't need a steak. Or whatever fancy meal was ordered for him, he craves a hug. Maybe a back rub. 

"But I got your favorite," The voice says, barely holding back excited bubbly giggles. "Blond with bright blue eyes."

He would recognize that laugh anywhere. 

Exhaustion forgotten, within the next second Freddie has leaped to his feet and he practically sprints to the door to chuck it open. Eyes wide.

And with relief nearly flooding Freddie's eyes with tears, he finds his dear lover leaning against the doorpost.

Wearing nothing but a skimpy housekeepers outfit and a cocky grin on his boyish face.

"Did you order room service Mr Mercury?"

Freddie laughs and wraps his arms around Rogers waist and lifts him up in the air and twirls him around. 

Rogers arms quickly fly around his shoulders and he girlishly kicks one of his legs out. 

"Roger, oh Darling." Freddie sighs when the blond leans in to kiss him for the first time in seven weeks. Freddie's arms are too sore to keep him up for long, but he can't get himself to let go yet. "When did you get here?" 

"Phoebe flew me in, he said you were lonely." Roger closes the door when Freddie carries him into the hotel room. "Which means you were being an ass."

Freddie scoffs. Stumbling slightly as he helps Roger across the hotel room. 

"They have been slagging. I needed to put them in place." 

Roger smiles. Eyes twinkling in familiar delight as he cups Freddie's defined cheeks. 

The air between them is light and Freddie's hunched shoulders relax under his lovers passionate warmth.

"I missed you." He says, rubbing the tip of his nose against Freddie's. 

Freddie momentarily closes his eyes and lowers his hands to hold onto Roger below the butt. His short skirt hikes up his thighs and reveals red lacy panties. 

His eyes fly back open again to meet Rogers cocky grin. 

"Why the outfit?" The singer asks. 

"I take every opportunity to dress up." 

_Of course he does._ Freddie shakes his head fondly. His fingers squeezing the bubbly flesh of Rogers ass. 

Rogers breath hitches slightly. Barely noticeably for one who doesn't pay attention.

His grip on Freddie's face tightens, before insistently kissing him on his parted lips. 

Freddie sighs into the kiss, his arms are about to give out and his legs feel like spaghetti after an afternoon of sound checks and that poor excuse of a show he gave for over two and a half hours. 

But Rogers weight is one Freddie is more than willing to suffer for. 

Even though his cock can't get hard where it is trapped in the spandex outfit, Freddie can feel arousal bubbling in his exhaustion bones.

Rogers slack tongue slides into Freddie's willing mouth. Their moans are in sync.

Freddie fumbles with the elastic of Rogers panties, nut trying to hold Rogers weight with only one hand had been a mistake.

His knees buckle under him and Freddie luckily stumbles into the bed instead of the floor. 

Roger falls backwards onto it with a high pitched shriek. Arms flailing out to hold onto Freddie- until he notices the mattress breaking his fall.

His skirt is hiked up to his waist now. Legs spread in the most unclassy manner. 

Freddie falls between them with a big smile. Crawling between his lovers thighs to flop down on top of his heaving chest.

Rogers hands trail down Freddie's uncombed hair. 

His chest is soft and warm. Despite the cheap fabric of the housekeepers outfit, Freddie buries his nose into it. 

He melts into Rogers touch when his clever fingers trail down to massage the base of his aching neck. Drawing a low moan out of Freddie.

His fingers twitch at Rogers sides, holding onto the skirt.

"I don't know if I'm up for sex tonight." 

Rogers legs wrap around Freddie's waist, his smile is evident in his voice. "That's okay, Babe. I know you work hard."

Two wet lips brush over Freddie's brow. And he knows he doesn't have to feel bad for not having the energy to fuck Roger, whilst he'd traveled so far, just to see Freddie. 

"You only wore this for your big entrance?" Freddie teases about the ridiculous outfit again. 

The hands on his neck squeeze him.

"It was worth it." Roger argues in a much softer and tender voice than before. It makes Freddie's stomach flutter with butterflies and his eyes close. "And I would have let you fuck me in it." 

"Or you could have fucked me with the skirt on."

Roger grins. Legs tightening around Freddie's waist. "I can wear it again. Won't chuck it out."

Before Freddie can reply, a wide involuntarily yawn pauses his speech. It's so powerful his eyes water and toes curl with the stretch. 

"Is that a promise? Hm?" He whispers as he relaxes back into Rogers chest once more.

He cuddles in closer, curling into Rogers warmth with a snuffling sound. 

"Are you gonna fall asleep?"

Roger pretends to be scandalized, but actually doesn't try to wake Freddie up. His hands continue to gently rub the soreness out of his neck muscles. 

"Sorry..." Freddie mumbles tiredly. Not really meaning it.

"And I flew all the way to Inglewood for you. I don't even know where that is."

Snorting, Freddie splays his head sideways so he can listen to the gentle rhythm of Rogers heartbeat. Not only that is soothing him, but the rise and fall of his chest rocks Freddie to sleep as well.

"I don't actually think you should sleep in that, Fred." Roger says, referring to his spandex onepiece. 

Freddie could not possibly be bothered. He is warm and content for the first time in weeks.

"Don't care."

"You like my designs so much, you must sleep in it." Roger snorts, breaking the steady breathing rhythm he had going on. 

It shakes Freddie awake enough to make him grumble.

It's a beautiful garment Roger had designed, like all his creations. But God knows it's uncomfortable and tight in places men should be allowed to breathe.

"I only wear it 'cause I get a discount for sleeping with the designer."

"Lucky you." 

Freddie groans miserably when Roger sits upright and effectively forces Freddie to roll onto the cold mattress all by himself.

With closed eyes he makes grabby hands to his lover, who gets to his feet as soon as he's freed.

"No! No Rog. Come back."

"I'm not gone." Roger smiles, before grabbing a hold of one of Freddie's legs and starting to unlace his heavy combat boots. "You're whiney." 

"I get whiney when I have to work 12 weeks in a row. Cut me some slack." 

Roger pulls the boots off and rolls his socks down his foot. He is kneeling by the bed and places a brief kiss to Freddie's ankle.

"Alright."

"Thank you." Freddie sighs.

He lays his head back onto the bed with a terribly tired sigh. His eyelids are heavy and Rogers familiar presence makes him comfortable and sleepy.

He cuddles into the crook of his own elbow and listens as Roger softly hums under his breath. 

One of Freddie's songs.

The blond makes quick work of Freddie's shoes without jostling him too much. And to undo Freddie's tight spandex suit, he has to roll the singer onto his belly.

Freddie lets himself be manhandled. Smiling privately when Roger climbs onto his butt to undo the zipper. 

"Take a chance with me. Let me romance with you." Rogers voice is soft and higher than Freddie's. He makes the song much slower and melodic in his whispered acapella version of the old piece Freddie had written so many years ago.

It certainly doesn't help him in not falling asleep.

"I'm caught in your dreams. Let my dreams come true." 

The zipper easily rolls down from his neck to Freddie's butt. He sighs in relief when he can finally easily breathe.

"It is hard to believe, but its happened to me-"

"Those aren't the words." Freddie mumbles while Roger wrestles his shoulders out of the spandex without any help from Freddie. 

"You wrote it about me, so I have the right to rewrite it." 

Roger kisses Freddie's bare shoulder blades with a dreamy grin Freddie can't see.

"An amazing feeling, coming through." He continues easily. Freddie still has to convince him to come into the studio to record for a song one day. "I was born to hold you." _Love you._

"You're doing that on purpose." 

Roger giggles. Getting back to his feet to pull the spandex all the way down Freddie's legs, to his ankles and off his feet. 

He stumbles backwards when the elastic forces him back with a snap. 

"Bloody hell, who designed that crap?" He jokes quietly, before bundling the garment into a ball and leave it by Freddie's suit case. 

Freddie smiles, but stays quiet as he waits for Roger to return to the bed.

"Debating whether to take the costume off or sleep in it." Roger mumbles as he toes off his shoes by the door. 

"Take off the uniform. Leave the panties on."

Roger grins, obeying without hesitation to haste himself out of the 12 dollar halloween garment. 

As soon as he has the skimpy black fabric pooling by his feet, Roger turns off the bedside lamp and crawls into bed next to his awaiting Love.

Freddie rolls onto his side and pulls a nearly naked Roger to his chest. 

Bare skin on bare skin. Freddie buries his nose into the crown of Rogers head and inhales sharply. 

His strong arms have no use but to drape around his purring partner. His flushed cheek rubbing against Freddie stubble.

"I missed you." 

Roger smiles against his skin. "I missed you too."

Freddie's hand is heavy on Rogers back. When Roger teasingly rubs his foot up and down Freddie's calfs, the singer forces him impossibly closer.

"How long will you be staying?"

"Have to go back to work with the clients in three days."

The nearing separation is not something Freddie wants to worry about now. 

He had offered Roger a share of his money many times. Offered to be Rogers sole client so he can always be with Freddie and follow him around the world.

To which Roger replied that he still has his own ambitions and accomplishments without his rockstar boyfriend.

Freddie sighs, wishing he hadn't loved someone with that much willpower and stubbornness. Though he secretly knows he would never be happy with a simple lapdog. 

"Then I guess we'll have three days of lavish dining and an extreme amount of sex."

Freddie tries to sound disinterested, but Roger catches the smile in his voice.

"I guess so."

**Author's Note:**

> Omg tell me if you liked it and leave a comment ❤️💛


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